


Heavenly Revenge

by Mossyrock



Series: Ineffable Husbands Bingo [23]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Badass Crowley with a flaming sword to the rescue, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Evil Gabriel, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Torture, poor Aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21886099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossyrock/pseuds/Mossyrock
Summary: Gabriel doesn't like being made to look like a fool. Aziraphale had escaped his punishment once, but Gabriel was going to make sure that this time, he suffers for his treason.And he knows just the way to hurt Aziraphale the most.For my Ineffable Husbands bingo prompt - Emotional Horror
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Husbands Bingo [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1476251
Comments: 5
Kudos: 138





	Heavenly Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Not really very graphic depictions of torture, but I thought it's better to be safe than sorry. Please read at your own discretion.

He was cold and his head was pounding. Those were the first things Aziraphale became aware of as he awoke in the darkness. He groaned. The sound of it reverberated around the room, or wherever he was. 

He had no idea where he was or how he’d gotten there. The last thing he could remember was being in the shop reading and then… nothing.

“Hello?” He called tentatively. It bounced around, echoing eerily, but fading again into perfect silence. 

He sat up, squinting into the blackness, trying to see anything. He groped around blindly, but felt nothing other than the smooth, freezing floor beneath him. He considered standing and trying to move around, but with no vision, he knew it would be dangerous. He could be in a rocky cave with a precarious drop for all he knew. It wasn’t worth the risk. Who knew what would happen if he was discorporated again. Heaven wouldn’t just issue a traitor a new body. 

“Crowley?”

There was no answer. 

“Ah, someone’s finally awake. It took you long enough,” A very familiar voice mocked. 

His heart stopped and the blood froze in his veins. 

“Gabriel?”

Gabriel clicked his fingers and the room illuminated blindingly white. 

Aziraphale’s eyes struggled to adjust, shooting sharp pains through his already aching head. He grit his teeth to stop himself from crying out. Once he could see again, he looked around. It wasn’t so much a room, as two prison-like cells separated by about 20 feet. Aziraphale could see the other cell was empty, but was otherwise identical to his – no bed, no chair, no nothing. Just a cold empty space.

“I would say it’s a pleasure to see you, but that would be a lie,” Gabriel sneered, looking down at him. 

Aziraphale was trying to not panic, but every instinct he had was telling him to. He and Gabriel had never seen eye to eye. But since the failed assassination attempt, it was clear that the Archangel hated him and wanted him dead – by any means necessary. 

Aziraphale took a steadying breath and tried to imagine what Crowley would do in this situation. Crowley was the most cool, calm and collected being Aziraphale knew. He wouldn’t be absolutely terrified by the mere sight of Gabriel. So, if he could emulate him, like he had in Hell, he could make it through this. 

He remembered what Crowley’d told him about his trip to Heaven during their body swap. He’d said he hadn’t shown any weakness. And scowled a lot. 

Aziraphale stood up from the cold, white floor and squared up to his former boss. He tried to employee his fiercest glare, crossing his arms and trying to look intimidating. 

But it didn’t seem to have any effect on the Archangel. 

“Aren’t you going to ask where you are?” Gabriel gestured around at the prison, smiling proudly.

“No.” Aziraphale tried very hard to sound nonchalant and stop his voice from wavering. He was impressed he’d managed it, but he’d only said one word. He might not fare so well on full sentences. 

Gabriel’s sneer only sharpened. Aziraphale almost wondered if he was sucking on a particularly sour lemon. But unfortunately it was just how he looked – bitter and cruel. 

“You will suffer for making us look like fools,” He growled. 

“You don’t need my help to look like fools,” Aziraphale retorted. 

Gabriel went a rather alarming shade of red. He looked ready to explode, but he closed his violet eyes and, after a moment, he opened them again, looking far more composed. 

“We might not be able to kill you, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make you wish we could.” 

Aziraphale stayed silent, trying to remain calm and show no weakness.

“I can’t wait to break you.”

That last sentence, said with such impassive resolution and a condescending smile sent a bone chilling shiver down Aziraphale’s spine. He didn’t know what they intended to do to him, but surely it couldn’t be too bad. He was in Heaven, after all. 

Nothing terrible could happen in Heaven, could it? 

* * *

Aziraphale had lost track of time. Without anything to do and no windows to watch the sun, he had no idea how long he’d been locked up for. Gabriel hadn’t even been back to see him since his unceremonious welcome. 

He spent his hours sat on the floor and wished for his books and his arm chair. He had tested to see if he could do miracles, but something was blocking him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t do even the simplest miracle. 

He was trying very hard not to panic. 

What would happen if Aziraphale never got out of here? Gabriel had seemed pretty bent on keeping him here. Sometimes being an immortal being was a disadvantage. He didn’t know if he could cope with eternity in solitude. He thought he’d go mad. 

His mind wandered – as it always did – to Crowley. He wondered if he'd discovered he was gone yet. Crowley tended to pop around to the shop fairly regularly, especially if he hadn’t heard from him for a while. He wondered what he’d think. Would he look for him? Would he know he was in Heaven? Would Crowley come to rescue him, like he always had before? 

Would Crowley put himself in that much danger, just for him? 

Aziraphale had walked into Hell for Crowley without a second thought. But did Crowley love Aziraphale like Aziraphale loved him? Aziraphale occasionally thought he did, but every time they got too close, one or other of them would back away, making him doubt himself. 

But now he wished he’d said something. He might have missed his chance for good. 

Just at the point that Aziraphale thought he might scream from the boredom and loneliness, the invisible door opened and Gabriel entered, grinning madly.

Aziraphale scrambled to his feet and adopted his scowl again. 

“Good morning, Aziraphale. We brought you a present,” He said, cheerfully. “I think you’ll love it. Sandalphon, bring it in.” 

Aziraphale gasped and felt a dread like he’d never felt before. 

Bound, gagged and blindfolded, Crowley was dragged into the room by a leering Sandalphon. He was tossed into the second cell, falling heavily to the floor. His cries were muffled by the rag stuffed in his mouth.

“Let him go!” Aziraphale demanded as authoritative as he could manage. 

Gabriel and Sandalphon just laughed. 

“You betrayed Heaven for this pathetic excuse for a demon? Really, Aziraphale? You disappoint me.”

“He wasn’t even hard to catch. He was just hanging around your stupid bookstore, looking like a lost puppy,” Sandalphon taunted. 

Crowley tried to yell through his gag, but it was no good. It was just muffled noise. 

“Truly, you two deserve each other. And you deserve everything we’re going to do to you.” 

Gabriel nodded at Sandalphon, who stood over the curled up form of Crowley and kicked him as hard as he could. At Crowley’s yelp, Aziraphale lost all attempts at composure. 

“Please! Don’t hurt him. Hurt me. Do whatever you want to me, but leave him alone,” He begged. He knew he looked and sounded pathetic, but he didn’t care. He only cared that they let Crowley go. 

“I could hurt you, Aziraphale. But this,” Gabriel gestured at Sandalphon, who was now holding a crucifix, and lowered it to touch Crowley’s forehead. The sizzle and the agonized scream from the demon had Aziraphale desperately clutching at the bars of his cell. “This will be so much sweeter.”

“Why are you doing this?!”

“You thought you could get away with disrespecting us? Disrespecting Heaven?”

“I didn’t mean to.” His eyes never left the quivering form of his best friend. He felt himself shaking too, knees threatening to give out. 

“God would be upset if one angel turned on another. But torturing a demon? I think I’ll get a commendation for this.”

Another burn had Crowley writhing on the floor. This time, he didn’t cry out. Aziraphale could only watch in terror. 

“Look at me while I’m speaking to you,” Gabriel demanded. 

When Aziraphale didn’t turn away from Crowley, Gabriel clicked his fingers again, creating a wall between the cells. Crowley’s cries carried easily through the wall, but Aziraphale couldn’t see what they were doing to him. He turned to Gabriel with a growl and a look so fierce that Gabriel took a step back. 

“You are powerless. I have blocked your miracles. There’s nothing you can do. You will listen to him suffer for eternity.”

Aziraphale’s grip on the bars tightened until his hands began to throb with the pain. He flinched when he heard another whimper from the other side of the wall. He didn’t dignify Gabriel with another look. 

“Come on, Sandalphon. Time to go. For now. We’ll be back soon though.”

Gabriel and Sandalphon left, laughing and joking, while Aziraphale stood perfectly still. Once they shut the door, he fell to the floor, tears streaming down his face. 

“Crowley? Oh God, Crowley. Are you alright?” He knew it was a stupid question, and his fears were confirmed when the only answer was a weak groan. 

“I’ll get us out of here, don’t worry.” He clicked his fingers, but still nothing happened. He growled and tried again, and again. 

“My darling, I’m so sorry.” His sobs echoed around the room and he silently begged God to help them. But God didn’t reply.

Crowley didn’t reply either as Aziraphale wept.

* * *

Aziraphale began to track the days by Gabriel and Sandalphon’s comings and goings. With Crowley still gagged and behind the barrier, Aziraphale talked to him, but got no responses other than occasional grunts or indecipherable noises. Aziraphale apologised until his voice was gone, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. He had suffered for Aziraphale’s love – something he’d never asked for. 

Gabriel and Sandalphon left him alone – except to taunt him – while torturing Crowley over and over. 

Aziraphale wanted to stop listening, block out the sound of Crowley’s anguished cries and pitiful whimpers, but he couldn’t. He owed it to him to listen and bear witness to his pain. He had angered Heaven and this was his punishment. The angel felt nauseous, trembling, sweating and crying as Crowley was burnt, beaten and left to suffer. 

He’d rather have Fallen a thousand times over. 

He just wished they had swapped bodies again. He would take the pain gladly, knowing Crowley was safe. 

Because hearing the blood curdling screams of the one he loved was pure agony. Gabriel had figured out that he loved Crowley and was using it against him. Aziraphale had to give him credit for that. He’d devised the perfect torture. 

Aziraphale talked to Crowley endlessly. He knew they were probably being listened to, but he didn’t care. He apologised, he begged forgiveness, he told stories – anything to pass the time and take their minds off the situation they were in. But he knew it was useless. They couldn’t escape and he would run out of things to say eventually. 

Slowly, Crowley stopped replying when he spoke. Whether it was because he was unconscious or whether he didn’t want to listen to him, Aziraphale didn’t know. But it didn’t stop him. He kept talking.

“Crowley, I’m sorry.”

“My dear, please forgive me.”

“My love, did I ever tell you about my time in Egypt?”

“Crowley, I love you. More than life itself. I will find a way out of here.”

And he did try to find a way out. He tested his miracles every day, in case they came back. He poked and prodded every inch of his cell. He prayed and begged. He learnt Gabriel and Sandalphon’s routines. But since they never came near his cell, it was all for nothing. 

It was useless. 

* * *

It had been at least three weeks. Maybe longer. Aziraphale couldn’t tell anymore. It felt like years had passed, each minute stretching into eternity as he wept listening to his beloved suffer unimaginable pain. He felt immeasurably old. He felt every second of his 6016 years, 43 days and approximately 14 hours of existence. 

The door opened and Aziraphale flinched. It wasn’t the usual time for Gabriel and Sandalphon to do their daily session. He turned around and couldn’t believe his eyes. He must have gone mad.

Standing in the doorway – panting and radiating righteous fury – was Crowley. He held a flaming sword and was looking around the room frantically. He didn’t have his glasses on, so Aziraphale saw his eyes sweep over himself, presumably bloodied and beaten in one cell, before resting on Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale couldn’t name the emotions that swept over Crowley’s face when he saw him. But relief was the one it settled on. Crowley rushed to the door of his cell, rattling the bars. 

“Crowley? How..?” 

“There’s no time to talk, angel. We have to get out before they realise I’m here.”

He was shaking each bar, pushing and pulling.

Aziraphale rushed to join him. He still wasn’t sure he wasn’t hallucinating, but it was better than wallowing in his own misery. 

Crowley hissed when the door refused to budge.

“Stand back, angel,” He warned, taking a step back and raising the sword. 

Aziraphale hurried out of the way. 

With a grunt of effort, Crowley swung the sword at the door of the cell. When it easily cut through them, like a flaming sword through butter, he looked between Aziraphale and the sword with shock and horror written all over his face. 

“It is a divine sword, with God’s flames. What did you expect?” 

“Not for it to break a divine metallic door in one swing!” Crowley shrilly replied. He held the sword at arms length warily. 

Aziraphale had never seen him so flustered, even at the end of the world. But after everything that had happened, he hardly blamed him. 

“We best get going.” He pushed the broken cell door open and rushed out. 

Crowley dashed towards the door, but looked back when Aziraphale didn’t follow. 

“What’s wrong?” He was clearly desperate to get out of there. 

“You’re not there.” He pointed at the second cell. It was empty. It didn’t look like it had ever been used, still as white and pristine as ever.

“Of course not,” His brow furrowed, staring at Aziraphale, “I’m here. To get you out of this place. But we need to hurry.” 

He gestured at the door with a wide sweeping motion, as if to say, ‘ _come on, hurry up, let’s **go**_ ’. 

Aziraphale shook off his confusion and joined Crowley by the door. He wanted to touch him, check him over and make sure he was alive and well, but Crowley was two steps ahead of him, grabbing his hand and pulling him along, holding the sword out in front of them like a shield. 

Aziraphale’s head was spinning and pounding, but he ran forward, clutching Crowley’s hand like a lifeline. He heard a shout from behind them, then another. Soon, there was a cacophony, following them as they ran through the corridors of Heaven. 

“Angel, can you do a quick miracle and get rid of these idiots?” He yelled at him, panting and trying not to slow down. 

“I can’t!” 

“Why not?” 

He was about to reply when he realised that he hadn’t tried to do a miracle since he’d escaped his cell. With a click of his fingers (on the hand not still gripping Crowley’s) he miracled their hunters to slow down. 

“Oh. Maybe I can.”

The pursuing mob slowed and they rounded a corner, then another getting out of sight and hopefully losing them. Crowley huffed a sigh of relief, but didn’t slow down. 

They reached the exit, but were suddenly blocked by the appearance of Michael, Gabriel, Sandalphon and Uriel. 

“Let us out of here and no one will get hurt,” Crowley growled, brandishing the sword at them. 

“You think that will hurt us?” Michael snorted. 

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a look, not sure how to answer. 

“Why are you here? You‘ve both been banished from Heaven.” 

“Why are we here?” Aziraphale screeched incredulously. All eyes snapped to him. Gabriel and Sandalphon were glaring at him as if they could incinerate him with their minds alone. The hand in his squeezed comfortingly as he inched further behind Crowley.

“Because you kidnapped him! You think I wasn’t going to come rescue him?” Crowley growled. He was shaking with rage. He almost seemed to glow with it. It was inspiring and terrifying. 

Aziraphale wanted to interrupt and correct him that they had both been kidnapped, when Michael and Uriel looked at each other, confused.

“We didn’t kidnap anyone,” Uriel had her head tilted, assessing them. 

“Maybe you didn’t. But they did.” Crowley pointed the sword at both Gabriel and Sandalphon threateningly. 

They reeled back, but Gabriel quickly recovered.

“Bullshit,” Gabriel spat. “You’re a lying demon and a traitorous angel. Why should anyone believe you?” 

Crowley opened his mouth as if to argue, but Aziraphale just wanted to go home. 

“Just let us go, please,” Aziraphale begged. The vulnerability of his voice seemed to cut through Crowley’s anger, diffusing the tension. 

“Go. And don’t come back.” Michael stepped aside, allowing them to cautiously walk through the group, towards the escalator back to Earth. 

* * *

They didn’t relax until they were back on Earth and sure they weren’t going to be followed. Crowley miracled them back to the bookshop, depositing them straight in the backroom. 

Aziraphale collapsed in his beloved armchair, deeply breathing in the smell of his home, his books, his demon – before he let the breath out on a broken sob. 

Crowley was by his side in a second, kneeling beside the chair. Not touching him, but as near as they ever really felt comfortable with. It was their unspoken rule to never get too close. Though that was changing, slowly but surely. 

“Angel, did they hurt you?” He asked, eyes roaming over Aziraphale, cataloguing any changes, checking for wounds. 

“No. They didn’t touch me,” He paused, looking at Crowley – who was unharmed, with not a single bruise on him. He didn’t understand. “But didn’t they hurt you?”

“Nah, of course not. Don’t worry about me.” He dismissed the concern, like he always did. 

A wave of nausea and memories suddenly flooded back, making Aziraphale cry out and clutch his heaving chest. He felt like he could barely breathe. He wanted to be sick, but he hadn’t eaten in weeks. His head was pounding. 

He’d seen and done a lot, both on Earth and in Heaven. But what Gabriel had put him through was a Hell like no other. Not even Hell had done to Crowley what Heaven had done to him. 

“But they had you. They captured you. T-they tortured you. I can still smell the burning and hear your screams. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t stop them. I-I couldn’t. I’m so sorry,” He wept. 

He knew he was hysterical, but he couldn’t stop the sounds being ripped from the very heart of him as he openly wailed and sobbed. 

Crowley looked terrified, not being very good with emotional people, but he patiently waited, repeating "it’s ok, we’re safe, we’re both safe," until Aziraphale had hiccoughed to a stop some considerable time later. 

“I really thought…” He trailed off, wiping his face with his handkerchief. 

“I don’t know what they did, but they tricked you. They never had me.”

“Really?” Aziraphale turned his big, watery blue eyes to the demon, taking his hand again without thinking, just needing the reassurance. He was much calmer, but he was still shaking from the adrenaline and fear.

“I promise you, angel. I’m safe. You’re safe.” He squeezed his hand comfortingly, swiping his thumb over the back of it. He was watching their hands, looking like he couldn’t believe they were holding hands yet again. It was rather becoming a habit.

Aziraphale hoped it continued. 

“What if they come back for us?” He whispered. 

“They won’t. But if they do, I’ll kill them.” 

“Crowley!” He half-heartedly admonished, too weak to put any real protest behind it. 

“Aziraphale,” He began very seriously, maintaining intense eye contact, something Aziraphale couldn’t remember him ever doing before, “After what they’ve put both of us through, it wouldn’t take much prompting. I promise you, angel. If they try to lay another finger on you, on us, I won’t hesitate.” 

It was sweet, in a murderously demonic way, he supposed. Though he knew, if only in the privacy of his own mind, that if Hell came for Crowley and he had some water on hand, he might do some blessing. If that made him a bad angel, then he didn’t really care. 

“Thank you, my dear.” He couldn’t take his eyes off him, too in awe that he’d risked walking into Heaven (as himself) to save him. And also afraid that if he left his sight, they might capture him for real. He couldn’t stand the thought of it. 

Crowley waved off the thanks, as usual. Aziraphale didn’t have the strength to argue. 

“It’s been a busy day and I’m sure you’re tired. I’ll let you settle back in.” Crowley stood and his hand began to slip out of Aziraphale’s. 

“No!” He grabbed Crowley’s hand with both of his, halting him and slightly pulling him off balance. 

Crowley stumbled back towards the chair, but caught himself before he stumbled into Aziraphale. 

“What?” He asked. Instead of the usual snarky tone he used to hide his sweetness, it was asked with genuine concern. 

“Can you stay? Please?” He felt weak and pathetic, but he’d been alone so long. He’d thought Crowley was nearly dead. If he left, Aziraphale worried it would be too easy to convince himself it had all been real. 

“Of course, if you want.” He shrugged. 

Crowley miracled up an identical armchair and sat beside him, keeping their hands entwined. They sat together in silence. Aziraphale listened to Crowley breathing and felt the hand in his, so warm and alive. He rest a finger on Crowley’s wrist, counting his heart beats. He was alive. And he was sitting beside him, caring for him. 

“Crowley?” He tentatively broke the silence. 

“Yeah, angel?”

Aziraphale looked down at the ground, staring at their shoes. He couldn’t look at him while he said what he had to say. 

“When I was in that cell, I had a lot of time to think. And talk to you. Or who I thought was you.”

His eyes flicked up to gauge Crowley’s reaction. Crowley was watching him, confused. His eyes, still uncovered, were warm and caring. There was no hint of his usual cutting humour. It almost made Aziraphale want to cry again. 

But he needed to say it. After all they’d been through, it was finally time. 

“I promised you that I would get you out of there. And I failed. You saved me yet again, like you always do. And I appreciate it. But I promised myself, if we got free, that I would make it up to you, my dear,” He paused for a moment, and then said what he had wanted to say for a long time. He’d said it, in the cell. But sitting here, face to face with Crowley, he felt like he’d never said anything before. “I promised that I would spend everyday loving you.”

Crowley was staring at him with wide-eyed panic. But Aziraphale had started, so he needed to finish.

“I have loved you for years, my darling demon. Probably even centuries, now that I’ve had time to think about it. And I thought that they’d captured you, to use you to torture me, because they know that I love you. And listening to you cry and scream,” His voice wavered and he felt more tears begin to fall. He cursed his emotions, “I couldn’t bear it. If being near you will get you hurt or killed, then you should leave. But I’m afraid I’m rather selfish and greedy. I want you here. I want you to stay with me, not just now, but forever. Will you?”

There was no answer. 

“I know this is a lot to process and truly terrible timing. But you need to know.” He finished talking with a definitive nod and looked up at Crowley.   
Crowley had stopped breathing. He looked like he’d been frozen, except that Aziraphale could still feel his heart beat, now racing too fast. 

“Crowley, darling, are you alright?” He asked, squeezing the hand in his. That seemed to restart him, as he blinked and his eyes, which had been staring off into the middle distance, snapped back to look at Aziraphale. 

“Angel, you’ve been through a lot. Let’s forget you ever said anything and we can revisit this – or not! – when you’ve calmed down.” Now he was the one being hysterical, though in a different way. 

“I meant what I said, Crowley. If you don’t want to go, by all means, you can go. But if you go because you think I’m just saying that, or you think I’ve gone mad, then you’re wrong.”

“Angel...” He stopped and looked away. 

“My dear, answer me truthfully. Do you love me, like I love you?” Aziraphale held his breath, waiting and hoping. He knew the answer – he’d always known it, deep down – but Crowley could lie to him. And if he did, Aziraphale would let him go. 

“Yes, of course I do,” He murmured, almost inaudible. It wasn’t a grand declaration. It was as if he didn’t want Aziraphale to hear it. 

But he heard it. And it settled into his soul, mending his heart, just a little. He smiled at Crowley, bending to kiss the hand still nestled warmly in his.

Aziraphale had a long way to go to heal from what he’d been through. And Crowley needed to trust and finally let him in, to let him love him openly. But it was a start. 

* * *

Gabriel hated Earth.

He hated everything about it. It smelled gross and the humans were loud and everywhere he turned. He couldn’t escape. He literally couldn’t escape.

After he’d been caught out for holding Aziraphale hostage in Heaven, the other Archangels had turned on him, even Sandalphon. They’d taken the case to Metatron, who had handed down the sentence of eternal banishment. It was better than Falling, but as far as Gabriel was concerned, only barely. He didn’t see how Aziraphale had survived all those millennia stuck down on Earth. He felt like he might go mad. 

But no matter how much he begged and pleaded, the Archangel’s wouldn’t let him go back to Heaven. God had made Her position on the matter very clear.

It was going to be an eternity of torture. 

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I'm much better at writing fluff. Even this, which is supposed to be horror, turned into a confession of love. But Aziraphale has some serious trauma here, so it's not a true happy ending.


End file.
